The Soul Gazer
by SesshiraRayu
Summary: Jasmine Gordon looks everything like an ordinary American little-girl, however, she is none of those things. Born in France and raised by the aunt of Sherlock Holmes, Jasmine has many secrets. Biggest of all, she can see into the souls of those she gazes on. When knowledge of her dangerous and potentially lethal ability is up for sale, who will save her? Hiatus until new season
1. The Funeral of Sherlock Holmes

I was so far out of my comfort zone that I hardly knew what to do with myself. I was standing awkwardly as I waited for someone to fetch me. I would describe how everything looked, if it weren't for the fact I was blind. However, I could feel everything else.

Standing on a manicured lawn, probably littered with tripping hazards called head stones and chairs, I was standing alone in the sunlight of the June weather. This was England, or so I had been told. As I inhaled the smell of the cemetery, which was like a field of different flowers and cut grass, I stood erect in the same exact place that my mum had left me.

My feet could feel the difference between concrete, grass and gravel with the very little the flats left between the soles of them and the soles of my bare feet. My waist-length hair was carefully braided that morning, so it kept most of the wind chill on my neck.

I ran my hands over the soft, but barely worn cotton of the dress. It was presumably black, from the heat it absorbed from the sun and multiped on my skin below. It was a shallow scoop neck with three-fourth sleeves. I could feel the hem brushing against my shins, below the shorts I wore underneath it.

However, the weather was remarkably cooler than I had expected. It was slightly chill with gusts of wind and a scent that I associated with rain. Standing there, I noted that the sun was the only source of heat, so I tried to angle my body in such a way to get the most of it.

The most annoying source of the heat on my body was over my upper face. I wore a special mask of sorts. Not the kind superheros could wear, which was meant to conceal their identity from the world. No, my mask was a mark of shame of my condition. It looked rather interesting, being specially made for me. Running my fingers over the rigid leather, I could feel the wrinkles of how it formed to make a second skin of black of my eyes, with smoothness that didn't exist underneath.

I could hear the lull of conversation and crying. It was a funeral after all. The service had ended with some making speeches about my cousin. He sounded like a prick, but a lovable prick according to some. Others claimed that even if he was a fraud, he had made other contributions to their lives.

One person stood out to me in those speeches; John Watson. He sounded like he believed that a dead man would return, because Sherlock Holmes would never be dead. I felt moved, but now that it was over, I just wanted to leave the chill and go home.

My mum was gone from my side, for the first time since this trip had been planned. "I'm only going to see why my sister did not come to her own son's funeral." mum had assured me.

I believed that task would take a while, so I knelt, trying to find my satchel. It was leather and well worn. Suddenly, what I was feeling for was thrust into my searching hands. "Looking for this?" a male voice asked. I nodded as I took it. He was standing on my left, his hand coming to my elbow to help me up.

"I'm John Watson." he introduced himself. I noted that his voice sounded less choked up than before.

"I'm Jasmine." I told him, shyly. I put my satchel on and adjusted it, before reaching inside for my retractable cane.

"Oh, might I ask what relation you have to Sherlock?" he asked, trying to start a conversation.

I paused and considered the most polite way to say it. "I'm his cousin. We've never met, but my mum is sister to his mum." I told him, the most I'd spoken in two days. Mum did most of the talking.

"Oh, do you know why his parents didn't come?" he asked, as if I were the fountain of knowledge for what my relatives did. I shook my head as I wondered if she was too distraught to fly from the United States to come here. We'd made the flight even though mum had not seen Sherlock in over ten years.

I heard his clothes rustle, putting his hands in his pockets. "Would you like an escort to your parents?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

I considered. Walking to god knows where with a stranger sounded like a terrible idea, so I compromised. "I would rather wait here, so they know where I am."

"Oh, alright. I figured you might be getting anxious being separated from them, being blind and all." John told me and I felt the sudden urge that I had been insulted. "Young girls shouldn't be left to their own devices in a foreign country."

I knew with the logical part of my mind that he hadn't meant any offence, but I drew the line at my age. I knew that I suffered from some sort of stunt in my growth, but I hated being thought to be a young child. Being blind was enough excuse to be coddled, let alone being a child.

According to my last doctor's visit, which was two months ago, I was a mere 4' 10" and maybe 95Ibs, soaking wet. From the explanations of my mum, a 17 year old should not be so short and zero-endowed. My mask also created an illusion of mystery, since my eyes could not be used to measure my maturity.

Softly, I murmured to myself. "_J'ai 17 ans_." My French seemed to peak in times of high emotion or when I didn't want to be understood, which was annoying that I was yet to control it.

"Hm?" John questioned beside me.

Following the sound of his voice, I raised my head and smiled, very fakey. "Oh, nothing, John. I will just stay here and wait." He seemed disappointed at my words, but gave me a goodbye and finally left. True to my word, I stood there and waited, until I felt the first drop of rain on the top of my head.

Knowing that I did not carry an umbrella in June in the United States, I had not packed one for England. I sighed as I carefully unfolded my cane. Swishing over the grass, I made my way of the maze of chairs and carefully toward the sounds of people.

However, I quickly realized my mistake. It was another funeral, not the leftovers from the one that I had just been at. Standing awkwardly at the back, I tried to figure out where else I could go.

A hand pressed against my left hand, which held the cane. I startled slightly as a voice, baritone and with a distinct accent of all the residents of England. "Shall I escort you toward the reception of the appropriate funeral?" he asked. "Before the rain?"

I was suspicious, but my need to be near my mum and out of the rain won out. "If you try anything, I'll scream and fight." I told him.

I heard him chuckle as he gently led away from the still going on funeral. The hand guiding me brushed the sleeve of a wool coat against the underside of my forearm. He also smelt of tobacco and mint, but not peppermint or spearmint.

After walking for a few moments, with me using my cane to figure out any tripping hazards, he spoke again. "Aren't you going to ask who I am?" he asked, after a minute or so.

"Why?" I reply, softly. "It's not like I'll ever meet you again, _le étranger_."

He seemed to be satisfied with that answer. Once I was near enough to hear my mum talking, he released my arm, pushing it in the direction of them. "_Merci beaucoup_." I breathed as I noticed that his presence had completely disappeared.

I walked toward my mum, hitting the steps of a gazebo, where there seemed to be refreshments. Someone must have seen me and wrapped an arm around me as he guided me toward mum.

I lay with my mask off in the hotel bed. I was alone in this somewhat small bedroom of our suite. My twin sized bed was by itself with a nightstand, on which my mask was perched.

My face toward the ceiling, I closed my eyes.

In my mind's eyes, they opened to a bedroom full of color and nature. It was nothing like the one waiting for me in the U.S. Here, the walls were painted a golden brown with vines painted handsomely. There was a bookcase taking up an entire wall of non-fiction and a few fantasy and science fiction novels.

Sitting up, I smiled as I got out of the bed to look out the sunlit window. It was a beautiful sunset with orange, pink and purple lighting up the sky in the sun's last farewell. Pausing to enjoy the sight, I went and sat on my vanity, opening a never locked drawer.

Inside, was the thing I cherished most in my mind. It was a huge photo album, which doubled as a journal for my experiences. Putting a "photo" of what I imagined myself looking in that dress, which was terrible, I wrote out my experiences for the day.

Closing it, I left it on the vanity as I looked up to gaze at my reflection. In reality, my hair was in a braid, but here, it left loose in wild waves around me. It was just as thick and unruly, in all its dark brown with natural light brown highlights.

I had a very angular face, an inverted triangle I was told. My lips were a little plump as compared to the size of my face, while my nose was a little small. But my eyes were the most captivating, they were wide and large, making me look younger or more elf-like than I already do. The right was a misty gray, while the left was a pale blue.

"The Jasmine Fairy." I stated to the mirror. I looked like one, all I was missing was the plant clothes and pointed ears it seemed. My wrists and ankles were as dainty as a child's or fairy.

I sighed, refusing to punch the mirror and break the glass for the umpteenth time. My eyes were what gave me such misery, but I refrained from simply plucking them out and being done with them all together.

Standing, making the chair scoot back across the hardwood with my knees, I went to the door of my bedroom. I didn't pause as I opened it and left. Mum and pa were in the kitchen, doing their own thing.

Normally, I would have stopped and talked to pa, but it was an open wound still. Pangs of guilt filled me as I didn't even glance at them because I was in a hurry.

In my walk down the street, I saw various No Faces or Gray Ones. I have no idea why they were here to be honest, but they filled in the gaps so to speak. They were entirely grayscale, like a colored image printed on a black and white printer.

Each were special in their own way. They all wore clothes and shoes, with some features such as hair and tattoos. However, their facial features were softened. It reminded me of how a wax face must look when partially melted off.

One waved at me, a teenage girl walking her perfectly normal dog. It sniffed me before taking off for a cat, dragging the poor girl with it.

Not everyone here were Gray Ones though. The one I was checking up on, was not gray at all. Going to the institution, which acted as the courthouse as well, I was walked up by an orderly. With the white walls and floor, the Gray One almost matched the surroundings unlike the ones in the park I passed.

This Soulful had been acting up in the back of my mind. I knew that the person he once was, was found dead with my cousin. They called him Richard Brook, which made me angry.

In the padded room, with a matching straitjacket, the disheveled male looked up at me when I entered the door. "So the Mayor returns!" he spat at me. Refusing to be afraid, I looked around. Nothing had change, I must have just heard his revengeful screams.

"You've taken two family members from me." I informed him. This Soulful had probably just learned of that fact from the echoes in the halls.

Jim Moriarty laughed at me. "No, I was just the tool you used to kill one of them."

It stung hard, but I refused to cry or yell. Instead, I smiled. "But you can't take any more away." He paused at that and lunged. I sidestepped, letting his face slam against the wall.

He started yelling and trying to do it again, when I shut the door on his cell quietly. His words followed me down the hall like flies as I left. I went back home.

Going into the kitchen, where my pa was sitting there, smoking a cigar and reading a file, he smiled as he looked up at me. He opened his arms in an inviting hug, which I greedily took. This was the only place, besides mum's heart, where he still lived on.

"I love you daddy." I cried into his shoulder. Like countless times in the past three years, he rubbed my back and let me let all of it out on his dress shirt.

"I love you too, Jazzy." he told me, after my sobs turned to hiccups. "I love you too."

Sunlight filtering onto my face from a real window woke me up. The clock told me that it was about 7AM. Wiping the remaining tears from my cheeks, I changed the bandages from the inside of my mask and put it on.

"_Un clou chasse l'autre_." I whispered to the empty room. Life goes on. "One nail chases the other."


	2. Flashbacks and Graveyards

I stood by a grave, led there by Mum. I knew whose grave it was, the Path being the same every time we went here. Over the Past five years, it had been countless. Again, I was standing on the manicured lawn of a cemetery, only this time, I was actually shedding tears under the mask.

Mum wasn't openly crying, not in the sounds that I could tell. She was standing beside me, telling the gravestone about the last few months and that she loved the soul that belonged to it.

"She's so big now." she told the headstone. "Still mistaken for a child, but she's even going to college now." I tried not to listen to her talking to him, because she tended to forget that I was standing right there.

I remembered getting the news from Mum over the phone at school. I was a mere 14 year old wisp of a girl. I had been starting high school, much to their delight. I was only 4'5" at the time, which caused the teachers and students to glare at me.

It had taken a week for them to realize that I wasn't a elementary genius, who was skipping quite a few grades. I was just a blind petite girl. However, when the principal escorts you personally to his office to take a phone call, your stomach sinks to China.

"Hello?" I murmured into the phone.

My Mum answered, her voice choked and full of sniffles. "Hello Jasmine."

My heart almost beat out of my chest. Nothing made my strict and formal Mum loose her cool. "What's wrong?" I asked, blunt and fearful.

"Your Pa Passed away today." she broke it to me in the softest voice I'd ever hear her use for me. "Something happened at work and your Pa got shot."

I dropped the landline. The cord must have been long, since I heard it slam against the floor. The principal, who had been sitting there the whole time, leaned forward in his chair. "I'm so sorry, darling." he tried to comfort me in such a pitying tone.

I turned and ran. I knew all the steps and distances of the high school that it was easy to run out the empty halls without my cane. I took off down the street, not caring where I went.

I ripped off my mask, so that I could see where I was going. I was blinded by tears, so I didn't worry about my gaze. All the time, my mind was screaming at me. "I'm a Murderer."

"Remember how her sculptures were so rough? She just finished one the other day that took my breath away with the intricate details in it." I could hear the awe in her voice and the proudness.

I blushed from where I stood. Why couldn't she tell me that to my face? I heard a crow caw and turned my face toward it. Birds were not rare to hear here, but it sounded too close for comfort.

I flinched as I saw a murder of black birds gathered around something. As I drew closer, I realized that they were feasting on the body of something with fur. Most of it was gone, but they were still picking at it.

I was pretty sure that I was in the woods of Virginia. I ate what I could steal from the farms that I had run into. They had no security, so I even got a shower in. Well, by shower, it was rinsing myself off with a hose.

My clothes were looking terrible for being out of civilization for four days so far. I guess that it was a bad idea to just take off without any provisions in just a dress and flats.

I had spent much time reflecting on the cause and effect that led to my current predicament, but it had taken four days for me to figure all of it out. This made me sink further into myself, maybe if I were smarter I would have been able to save Pa, instead of giving the advice that would kill him.

Pa was a General of the U.S. Army. He loved his work so much that Mum joked that he should have married it instead. However, during life-or-death interrogations, Pa wasn't able to get what he needed quickly enough. Each terrorist attack that was successful wore on his conscious.

When I was 12, Pa asked me to come with him to the Pentagon. He knew the limitations of my ability. I had to have eye contact; you see me and I see you. So a one-way glass would not be enough.

I also had to have time to create a Soulful, or else the raw data overwhelmed me. However, he was Patient because I could tell him whenever I could.

Pa made me promise never to tell anyone, not even Mum, what he wanted me to do. He needed me to soul gaze certain people that he couldn't crack. It wasn't hard to convince me, now that I thought about it.

Pa was always so distant from me, but I thought that doing this would bring us closer. In some ways, it did. He would hug and kiss my forehead, which he never did in my youth.

I yearned for a hug right then and collapsed in the massive roots of tree. "Just kill me now." I pleaded with the universe.

When I was told that Pa was shot, I was on the run for a whole week without detection. However, military efforts was my downfall.

Pulling up the hood of my fluffy jacket, I tried to take most of the chill off the October air. Halloween was in a week, which excited me. I never dressed up anymore, since the fairy outfit was getting rather old every year. However, Mum was going to trust me to deal out the store-bought candy this year, which was amazing. She normally just made the treats, but after five years without her favorite taste tester, she'd begun to lose the motivation to do so.

It had been just before Halloween, five years ago. Pa used the guise of a office Halloween Party to sneak me into the Pentagon again. I had only helped a handful of times. I was giddy.

"Now, he doesn't respond to threats or anything. I just need a weakness, so don't push yourself too hard." Pa warned me.

I nodded. I made taken off my mask, once we were in the empty halls of the cells. I looked at my reflection in the silver surfaces. I was wearing another fairy costume, but this one was more mature for once. I had just turned 14 the month before and starting high school, so I thought that I was above the very frilly pink and purple outfits from years Past.

This year, I was wearing an off-shoulder outfit with jasmine flowers and vines drapped all over my hair and hips. It was brown with green and white, so I felt more mature.

Pa opened the outer door of the locked cell. I tilted my head as I looked through the one-way mirror at the person that Pa feared so much. He looked no more than 25, but that was my uneducated opinion. His hair looked like it was meant to be slicked back, but was disheveled. His body was a sort of sickly Pale with sharp angles of how skinny he was.

"This is him." Pa told me. "His claims that his name is Randy Sawyer."

I smiled at Pa, avoiding his eyes by closing mine. "I'll be fine." I promised as I turned my head back to the mirror. Pa stepped to the side, out of sight of the cell and in reach of the controls. Without warning, he flipped the switch to make the mirror two-way.

"I wish that I could have been strong enough to say no." I thought to myself as I placed my hand on the top of the hip-high grave stone. I felt to the base of the statue of an army soldier on the top.

I had never been strong enough for Mum's lessons. She always comparing me to Jade. Jade was brilliant, according to her. It only took Jade three years before she could create a Soulful just as quickly as she soul-gazed someone. Those comments always stung.

Mum gave up on me ever learning to be as useful as Jade, so I was forced into the idea to never uncovering my eyes. I wanted to be useful so much that I agreed to the seizures and the pain of not improving with each soul-gaze.

Most of the Soulful in my city were murderers, rapists, serial killers and terrorists. However, they interacted perfectly with me. They _liked_ me, which I had never understood, because I knew their counterparts would love to strangle me for knowing all their secrets.

However, I was privately useful. Pa would make arrests, find bodies and prevent other attacks with the information that I fed him. No one knew, but us. Mum would never be able to smile at me with the proudness that she kept only for Jade.

"I've helped on another case." she chuckled, before launching into the details that she had barely shared with me during the weeks she'd been working on the case.

I was polite enough to leave her to her rambling. I didn't believe that Pa's soul was still here, but she did, which I guess is all that matters.

The man's eyes found mine and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer will of Jim Moriarty. I knew this was his true name and that was all I could process before I fainted.

I had never had a Soulful that was so much. This wasn't just a Passive one, waiting for me to mold them. It fought against all my attempts to tame it. It was an epic battle in my city, which suffered greatly. Gray Ones and Soulful that I had gathered tried to fight this threat, but each Soulful that fell created a larger problem for me.

The sheer amount of raw data was melting my city and forcing me into my bedroom, while everything broke.

In the real world, I was in the hospital suffering from multiple seizures. Doctors were convinced that my coma and seizures would be the end of my life, but they couldn't be more wrong.

I had decided that then, I would never soul-gaze anyone ever again. I never wanted to feel that helpless and scare my parents. After that, I proudly wore my mask and the life of being blind. However, I wish that last soul-gaze wouldn't have cost me so much.

"I love you." she murmured to the gravestone, with finality. Clothes rustled and I thought she had turned toward me. I nodded and smiled at her.

The military had helicopters in the air, searching for heat signatures, which for a 14 year old girl, it was difficult to convincingly pretend to be a wild animal. Though, I did resemble one.

I was crouched on all fours, in a den that had long been abandoned. I had spent two nights here. I never spoke, I just sleep, kept warm and foraged for food. One of the serial killers would loved to dress his kills as "bunnies" and chase them helped by telling me what was edible.

I fled my mind bedroom, not wanting to see Pa. He was still there in my mind, which would surprise Mum. Jade's Soulful would disappear if their counterpart died. However, my week long run from my mind city had made its residents restless. I was literally dragged from the Mayor's office, by a few of the stronger Soulful.

Pa was standing in the lobby, surrounded by many Soulful and Gray Ones. His hazel eyes softened as he saw me. He opened his arms for a hug, which I selfishly dove into. He stroked my hair. "I know that it would be foolish to try and convince you that it's not your fault, so I will let you figure that out on your own."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, in his usual patient and fatherly tone. "However, Moriarty gave me a choice. I could either let him get a foothold in the Pentagon, which would give him direct access to America's defenses, or I could let him hurt your mum or you."

The words were an echo of what I had told him. "So I choice neither. If I committed suicide, he could not claim that he forced me or killed me, nor could he have leverage against you or my Darlene."

Mum appeared at his side, strict and firm to his soft and inviting. "It was his choice with the cards he held." They exchanged a loving look with each other.

Pa moved me so that I could face all the Soulful gathered there, save for Moriarty, who was firmly locked up. His arm was heavy on my shoulders. "These are your best friends, because they will never change. They will change with you, but we will always love you for being accepting of all our natures."

"Move on." the Soulful urged. They were in unison.

I shed a few tears as I nodded. "I can move on." Pa patted my head as my mind city floated away.

I opened my eyes to flashlights just beyond my den. "Jasmine! Jasmine Gordon!" the voices called. I sat up and put on the mask that I had never thrown away. I knew my fate now.

"I'm right here." I shouted.

"I love you too." I said to the gravestone, putting a hand on top of it. It was smooth and very very cold against my hand.

Once I had "beaten" Moriarty, I was able to gather the information that I needed. He was very cooperative once he was in a dungeon and chained to the walls. It was the only way I thought I could get what I needed.

Moriarty didn't seem to care, as he played games with me, probably trying to stall for his counterpart. However, time in my mind and time in reality played differently now.

What he thought was four days, was really just one sleep cycle for me. I had to focus on speeding up my city, which was much more effective with its rebuilt state. The secrets that he tried to use to stall were interesting, but unwanted. I eventually had Mum stand, just out of sight to listen to him.

He finally broke down, when I refused to give up on my mission. Basically, he has not one or two, but three entire criminal systems, all of which were independent of each other.

"General Gordon is the only foothold at the moment for me to gain into the Pentagon, then into the rest of the United States." he admitted softly, then he laughed at me. "But you cannot stop me now! Four days was enough for my plan to go through! You cannot stop me!" he screamed as he laughed and mocked me.

I played innocent as I smiled. He paused when he noticed my lack of reaction. "It's only been a night." I scolded. "_Merci_ to you, I can control the passage of time in my mind now."

He didn't pause as he strained against his bonds, trying to get to me. The Gray Ones, who were dressed as an orderly, waited for me to change the scene. I changed the chains into a straight jacket, then the stone and iron cell into a padded one. Now being able to move, Moriarty lunged at me.

I sighed as I left. "_Au revoir,_ Jimmy." I told him, half teasing, half mocking. I hated the hand he held and I wanted my family to be nothing, but safe.

Hooking my elbow with hers, she guided me out of the cemetery and into the car. I had never understood why I must always sit in the backseat, but it suited me well. The leather was familiar under my ungloved hands.

"Would you like breakfast?" Mum asked from the driver's seat. Our routine for these trips had turned into a cemetery visit, then a meal at Pa's favorite café.

"_Oui_, please." I answered, over the rumble of the engine. I settled into the leather, trying to stay warm. It was only about 60°F in this part of the country, but to me, it was more of 40°F.

"Oh, there might be a carnival in town, or they have someone buried here too." Mum mused as she buckled up. "It sounds foreign though. I think it's called the Rati Carnival of Nightmares."

I was confused with the pang of horror in my stomach. I supposed that it was nothing and smiled. "That would be a fun change. Though you'd probably just put me on the rides, without describing what it does first."

Mum laughed, very lightly. "I suppose that I would." she admitted. "Just to see how loudly you'd scream." I giggled as I waited. Mum was no longer as strict and formal with me, I guess five years of grieving does that.

During the battle, well it was more of a war, with Moriarty, I realized that he was as changeable as the wind. He never seemed to hold onto one position or tactic for long. He, like all the other nebulous vapors, seemed to be impossible to trap in any container my mind could construct.

Moriarty seemed to know every single weakness I had and used them to his advantage. However, I know my weaknesses too. It took a net and a glass sphere to trap just Moriarty. Then the next part of turning him into a Soulful was the easiest part.

He was handsome, at least to my teenage brain, but mocked my slowness to entrap him. Without him in the way, my city was finished in weeks. I did have to return to school, so I only had nighttime to work on it.

I had been told of my Pa's apparent suicide three days after I got the info from Moriarty. I still worked on my mind city in my self-induced exile and beyond.

Washington DC is the only place I'd known since I moved here. Pa lived in his work, which was at the Pentagon, so Mum and him had moved here to be close to what both of them desired.

Mum, on the other hand, was a renowned psychologist. She loved to work on cases with the Washington DC police or with the universities as a guest speaker. However, she loathed the public school system, so she could have never stomached teaching as a career.

These thoughts helped Pass the time in the car. I hated riding in cars, since I could not see what was going on around me. Though, some might say that is what saves a life, not bracing for impact.

The turn into the café was steep and to the sharp right, throwing me against the side Panel and window of the driver's side, where I was seated. It stung a little, but it didn't matter, since the café was always warm and had some of the most delicious biscuits.

Once Mum cut the engine, I unbuckled, but waited for her to open the door. We had learned when I was younger that I could not calculate how wide to safely open the door, so we settled on her opening it for me.

She seemed at peace as she led me toward the café door. "I love you, my young flower." she told me, fondness evident in her voice.

I smiled. "_Je t'aime trop_, Mum." The twinkling of the door and the waft of warm air, scented with cinnamon and bread and coffee, I relaxed to enjoy this visit.

In hindsight, I wished that I could have made that visit to the café sweeter and more memorable, because I had no idea that it would be the last time I would have with Mum.


End file.
